Monday 30/10/2023

A day after our house was bombed to ruins (on top of our heads) I thought I would write about it. But then I felt like my words would fail to describe what happened. My sense of betrayal would take over, that I betrayed all the fear and the screams, that I betrayed death and reduced it to a few words. I feel like I'm betraying those feelings.

Someone needed to hold it all together and not cry. I know there's mercy in crying but I have no choice. Life sometimes forces us into what we cannot process. Everyone cried and when it was my turn to, I held my tears back like a seasoned prison guard.

It's the third day after the bombing, and how I wish I had cried like they all did. I wish I had betrayed it all and threw my tears - all my feelings are locked up, stuck in my chest, the sound of my siblings screaming, the look on my sister's face as she was telling the emergency responder to help get my father out from under the rubble.. My mother's screams and cries in fear for my father's life. The shock in their eyes, the tremor in their hands, all the touch we exchanged for some sense of comfort.

Oh how I wish I had cried, as loud as I could, until I'd forgotten who I was (who I am).